


Snapshots

by imtoolazytothinkofausername



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Incorrect Quotes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imtoolazytothinkofausername/pseuds/imtoolazytothinkofausername
Summary: A dumping place for short fics that don't really seem to have another place. Most of them are part of undeveloped aus.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. We Were All Children Once

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Alex Rider or any associated characters. I'm not writing this for profit.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says before he can stop himself. 

Yassen glances up at him, head tilted quizzically, and Ben supposes he can’t blame the assassin. The words had come from nowhere. The two had been standing in silence for the better part of a half hour, watching the sun set over the bay and waiting for Alex to come back with the information they needed to find the man they hoped would be their informant. 

“For what happened to you.” 

Looking at Yassen’s face is usually like looking at a mask. Oh, his expression would change. Ben had seen Yassen smile and laugh, sometimes scowl, but Ben had always gotten the uncomfortable feeling that he had never seen anything Yassen hadn’t wanted him to see. Now, though, there is obviously genuine confusion seeping through the cracks, and Ben realizes that nothing he has said could possibly make sense to his companion. 

Ben already wishes he hadn’t said anything, but it’s too late now. Better to continue. “I’m sorry for what you went through as a kid. For what Scorpia did to you.” 

Ben had started to read Yassen’s files 6 months ago, just after their last encounter. With Alex steadily becoming a fixture in Ben’s life, the frequency of Ben’s encounters with Yassen had increased. Whereas before Yassen had just been a name on a watch list, one meant to be deceased at that, he’d become very real to Ben. 

From the start, Yassen scared the hell out of Ben. Still does to be honest. Ben has seen the man kill without so much as a change in expression. Kill with a smile on his face. And Ben knows that while Yassen would never hurt Alex, that same allegiance doesn’t necessarily extend to Ben. So, he’d set out to learn as much as he could about the assassin as possible. And while Ben has found out enough to send him into a cold sweat while thinking about the things that could happen when alone with the other man, the files contain other information, things that have made him look at the assassin with new eyes. Such a change is dangerous. Yassen’s no less dangerous than he was before Ben had learned about the Russian’s childhood. But nevertheless, Ben’s woken up from more than one nightmare about a child who looks suspiciously like Alex, but who Ben knows is Yassen, experiencing things most full-grown adults never dream of. 

Ben can’t dream of how anyone could force a child into slavery or train one to kill. He can’t imagine how John Rider could leave the boy that Yassen, a child who had clearly idolized John, alone in a terrorist organization. Ben thinks of Alex, and the man knows that if push came to shove, he’d betray his entire country to keep the kid safe. How John could look at Yassen and not feel the same is unfathomable.

Yassen’s face has grown serious, and he’s turned to stare at the bay. “It was a long time ago.” 

Ben should shut up now. For all he knows, Yassen’s taking this research into his past as an insult or a threat. What he says is, “Still, you shouldn’t have been put through that...you deserved better.” 

Yassen shrugs, still not turning to face Ben. “No child should have to go through that, but sometimes it happens.” 

Ben can’t think of anything to say to that, so he just nods and turns to face the bay as well. They stand there quietly until Alex returns. 


	2. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Alex Rider or associated characters, nor am I writing this for profit. The premise is based off a scene in Supernatural. I don't own that show either.

Of all the people Yassen thought would show up at his doorstep, Wolf was not one of them. He couldn't imagine a single second of their acquaintanceship that would allow Wolf to think he could just drop by unannounced, let alone tell Wolf how to find Yassen. 

Yassen considered the possibility that this was a trap, but somehow he didn't think so. The SAS man looked haggard, panicked even, and surely MI6 would use Alex if they wanted to lay a trap. Although it was possibly Wolf was meant to lead him somewhere under the assumption Alex was injured...

Well, if it was a trap, Yassen's house was undoubtedly under surveillance. Yassen had several exits, but MI6 would have found out about each and every one before sending an agent in. Running without some type of body shield was out of the question. Letting Wolf in would at least give Yassen a hostage.

Yassen pressed a button, opening the door while allowing him to remain at a distance. "Come in. Remove your guns, and strip. I know Smithers can do wonders with even the smallest-" 

"Oh good!" Wolf cut him off, complying with the demands without a second thought. "You're home. I need help hiding a body." 


	3. First Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Alex Rider or affiliated characters, and I did not write this for profit.

The first time Yassen met Ben Daniels was while breaking into a safe house to talk to Alex Rider. He had received news that Alex had been grievously injured, and Yassen had reason to believe that one of the agents accompanying Alex at the time was secretly working for Scorpia. Yassen had been retired for over a year. He hadn’t revealed his survival to Alex, thinking it would be better for both of them not to have any further contact. Alex was already in over his head in this world, and associating with a former assassin would only drag him further in. Likewise, Yassen didn’t need MI6 knowing where he was. Yassen’s resolution had been shattered, though, when he had heard that Hunter’s son was possibly near death. The idea that someone at the boy’s bedside could be the one responsible had been enough to make Yassen behave rashly. 

Within days he’d tracked down the safe house in which Alex was being cared for. He found security laughably inferior, and that made him even more angry. Surely even pure self-interest should make MI6 take better care of Alex’s life! The only challenge had arisen when he’d reached Alex’s room. A man (at the time Yassen hadn’t been sure if he was a guard or Alex’s friend) had been waiting by Alex’s bedside.

Daniels, as Yassen would later come to know him, took one look at Yassen and launched himself at the assassin. Ben hadn’t known who Yassen was either, but this man was a stranger. MI6 would have informed him of any new nurse or guard, so Yassen had to be a threat. 

Yassen let Daniels push him out into the hallway. The figure on the bed was covered in bruises and bandages, and Yassen couldn’t risk Alex becoming a casualty. After that, though, Yassen didn’t hold back. Daniels proved a much more difficult opponent than Yassen had bargained for, and several times Yassen found himself at a disadvantage. Eventually, though, Yassen was able to get the better of Daniels. 

The SAS man knelt on the ground, blood dripping down his face from a cut in his head. Yassen was certain he’d broken several of the man’s bones in the fight. For all that, Daniels glared up at the assassin defiantly. 

Yassen had been debating whether he should kill the man or let him live. Killing him would be safer, and Yassen would have done so in the past. But if this man was Alex’s friend or ally, would Alex forgive him for killing someone else Alex cared about? It would be much more difficult to protect Alex if Alex was intent on revenge. 

Then Daniels spoke. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you...” He seemed to realize that this wouldn’t mean much if he himself died. “Even if I’m dead, our unit will hunt you down.” 

The threat didn’t mean much to Yassen. He was used to threats. Most of them were made in a desperate attempt to ward off death; they rarely came to fruition (although from what Yassen later learned about the men who had trained with Alex, this one might have come to pass). What struck Yassen was that even when anyone else would have either been focused on their own pain or pleading for their life, Daniels still seemed intent on protecting Alex. 

As Yassen surveyed the man, he could even see Daniels’s muscles tense, preparing for one last lunge. Incredibly it seemed that the man was going to make one last attempt to save his life and Alex’s life. It wouldn’t have worked. He doubted Ben would have even reached Yassen. But Yassen had to admire the man’s strength and dedication. Before Ben could shift another inch, Yassen knocked him out with a blow to the head. For now, the man would live. It was at that moment that Yassen realized that he was going to like Daniels. (Of course, it would later become clear that the feeling wasn’t mutual, but that was only to be expected.) 


	4. Devil You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Alex Rider or affiliate characters. I did not write this for profit.

He was being an idiot, Ian thought as he stared at his phone. He was going to get himself killed, and he deserved it. It was, after all, Ian’s own fault. He should have retired from MI6 the moment he’d found out he would be responsible for raising his brother’s son. What business had Ian had risking his life when a child was waiting for him at home? He should have kept in touch with some of his more distant relatives. Maybe then Alex would have had someone capable of defending him while Ian was in the hospital. Ian should have relayed the information about the virus to MI6 as soon as he’d had even the vaguest suspicion. Maybe then MI6 would have had at least enough to stall the computers’ release without involving Alex. Most of all, though, Ian should have fled the complex the moment he’d seen Yassen. If he had, maybe Ian would have made it home safely. But Ian had behaved rashly, and Alex had paid the price. 

Yassen and Ian had run into one another several times throughout the years. It could never be said that they were friends or allies, but Ian also wouldn’t have called Yassen his enemy. Yassen had idolized John, and John had, in his own way, loved Yassen. It had been John’s wish, Ian knew, for MI6 to recruit Yassen. To save the boy from the life of an assassin. From the way Yassen had talked about John whenever he and Ian had a rare conversation about something other than their missions, Ian thought that Yassen would have done anything, told MI6 anything if John had only asked him to. But Alan Blunt had refused. God knew why; Yassen would have been the best agent MI6 had ever had, but Blunt was against it. However, Ian was reluctant to harm the protegee who his brother couldn’t save, and Yassen...well, Ian couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was love for John that stayed Yassen’s hand on more than one occasion. 

When the two encountered each other, usually they found a way to avoid a confrontation. If things came to a head, they tended to try to resolve matters in a nonlethal way. Occasionally they had even been forced to work together. This...truce was always temporary and tenuous, of course. Yassen worked for Scorpia, an unforgiving organization when it came to failure. If it was a choice between completing his mission or saving Ian, Ian knew that Yassen would kill him. Likewise, Ian’s duty to his country superseded any desire to save Yassen. But while they’d left their fair share of scars on the other, neither had ever killed the other. Ian had seen Yassen at Sayle’s compound, but he hadn’t thought Yassen had seen him. Ian had thought that he could afford one more day, and he had thought that there was a possibility that he could reason with Yassen should it come to it. And then he’d been fired upon as he was leaving the compound for one last trip to the village. 

Ian had vague memories of the tires being shot out and of crashing the car. He could remember Yassen opening the driver’s side door, and he’d thought they’d had a brief conversation. But the next thing Ian could remember was waking up in the hospital 3 weeks later and being told that his nephew had been used as a weapon by MI6. 

The idea that Alan Blunt would send Alex, a 14-year-old child, into the field would have been laughable only a few months ago, but Ian had heard from Alex’s own lips what his nephew had been subjected to at the hands of MI6. Lots of spies had children but little to no family to care for their children should things go South. Having few connections was a hazard of the job. Usually, in the event of an agent’s child becoming orphaned, MI6 would work to find the next closest relative who would be willing to take the child in. Failing that, a loving family who wanted to adopt. Ian had never heard of MI6 using a child as a secret agent, and so he simply hadn’t considered that Blunt would do that to Alex. 

Of course Ian had sworn at and threatened his boss when he’d found out what Blunt had done, but Ian was hospitalized. Yassen had done an excellent job of making sure Ian would be out of commission for quite a while. Still, Ian thought that Blunt would at least respect his wishes since Ian was awake. So it had come as a shock when Jack had come to see him, seething about Alex being sent off to some academy. Blunt hadn’t even had the decency to tell Ian. 

After that, it had been Afghanistan, and after that it had been Cayo Esqueleto. Each time Alex came back, he seemed less and less like his old self. Their relationship had not surprisingly suffered. Once they’d been close, but now Ian could tell that part of Alex blamed Ian for what was happening to him, maybe even thought Ian had planned for this eventuality. Ian hadn’t, but he couldn’t blame Alex for thinking so. Ian blamed himself. What type of uncle was he that he couldn’t protect his own nephew? 

And that was why Ian was making the call. Whatever Yassen’s feelings toward Ian, and Ian had to assume that their truce was over now, Ian knew that Yassen cared for Alex. Apparently, the man had killed his own employer to keep Alex safe. Now, Ian was home from the hospital, and he could get around pretty well, but he was far from ready to go back in the field. Even if he had been ready to return to work, Ian didn’t know if he could protect Alex. John would have been able to, but John had always been the better agent. Ian knew that he needed something solid to keep MI6 off of their backs or he and Alex had to disappear. He didn’t have the first, and he didn’t have the resources to successfully accomplish the second. Yassen, however, was a different story. The man had been John’s protegee, and John had taught Yassen almost everything he knew. Yassen also had contacts who could provide falsified documents to help them start over, contacts who weren’t affiliated with MI6. Had it been for Ian’s sake alone, Ian wouldn’t have bothered asking. But for Alex’s sake... 

Yassen picked up on the first ring. 

“Ian.” Yassen’s voice was tense, and there was almost an angry quality to it, as if it had been Ian who had shot Yassen and not the other way around. This alone made Ian consider simply hanging up and exploring other options, but what other options were there? Ian wouldn’t have made the call if he had thought that he had any other choice. 

“Yassen.” Ian replied curtly. “We need to talk.” 

“I should think so. You know, Ian, this is a new low for you. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but I thought that this at least was something I could have trusted you with.”

‘Disagreements’ was putting it mildly, Ian thought, but he racked his brain. He hadn’t known what he expected Yassen to say. He hadn’t even been sure that Yassen would pick up. But it was clear that Yassen had his own idea about why Ian was calling. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Please, Ian. Don’t pretend you don’t know. I’ll be lenient this time, but if it happens again-” 

“If what happens again? What are you going on about?” 

“I’m not an idiot, Ian. I don’t believe-” 

“Well, obviously you are because I have no idea what you think I’ve done, but I’ve been in the-” 

“I had...oh, a little errand to take care of in Saint-Pierre. It was going well until I saw a familiar face.” 

Ian felt a chill wash over him, and he knew that his face had gone pale. Saint-Pierre...Alex... “He’s just on vacation with a friend, Yassen. He’s not...I didn’t...” 

“So why is it that he felt the need to slip onto my yacht and point a gun at me?” 

When, after several seconds of silence, Ian found his voice, all he could get out was, “What?” 

There must have been something in Ian’s voice that convinced Yassen that this was all news to Ian. “You didn’t know?” 

“No! That’s what I’ve been telling you! Why would he...” Suddenly the why wasn’t so important anymore. “Wait, what did you do to him?” 

“He’s fine.” 

“I swear to God, if you’ve hurt him-” 

“He’s fine, Ian. My deckhands wanted to take their revenge, but I was able to dissuade them. However, it would be best if you came to pick him up. I’ve already stayed longer in Saint-Pierre than I planned. I have an engagement elsewhere, and I can’t stay much longer.” 

“I can be there in 10 hours.” 

“No. That’s too long.” Yassen paused as if debating whether to tell Ian more. “I’m going to England. Meet me tomorrow at 12:00 at Adventure Island.” 

"How do I know that Alex will be safe?” 

Yassen’s voice took on a steely tone. "You have my word. Out of the two of us, I have a better track record keeping him safe.” 

The accusation stung, but Ian had to admit that it was true. “Okay, okay. Where should we meet?” 

"Just outside the park. I’ll find you...” For a moment Yassen was quiet again, and Ian wondered if the conversation was over. “If you didn’t know about Alex’s foolish attempt, why were you calling?” 

“I...” Ian stopped. With everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure whether Yassen would be open to hearing Ian’s request. Perhaps it was better to wait until they could talk in person. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 


	5. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do not own Alex Rider or affiliated characters. I am not writing this for profit. I’m not sure if this qualifies for Flufftember or Angstober (am I getting those names right?), but here’s my contribution.

Every child, even every adult, had nightmares sometimes. After what Alex had been through, it was only natural that he had them more than most people. However, it took almost getting killed for Fox and Wolf to realize that taking care of Alex’s nightmares was anything but simple. Getting the kid through them involved just as much analysis and skill as defusing a bomb. 

If Alex was simply muttering to himself in his sleep, it was okay to shake Alex awake, saying his name to let him know that the person in his room was familiar and not a threat. However, if the kid had already started tossing and turning, it was usually better to keep one’s distance and call his name or make some noise that was loud enough to alert Alex that he was no longer alone. Thankfully most of Alex’s nightmares fell into one of these two categories, or at least they did when Alex had to share housing with one or more of the men who had taken an interest in his safety. 

However, the third type of nightmare was more of a problem. Alex had been shot, held captive in an organ-harvesting hospital, forced to watch as his guardian had been murdered, and experienced other horrors. Any one of those would have destroyed an ordinary person. Alex had somehow survived with his sanity intact, but that didn’t mean there weren’t mental scars. Some nights Alex relived these terrors, thrashing about in his bed, sometimes kicking and hitting at invisible enemies. He’d shout and cry, making threats and sometimes begging for mercy. This type of nightmare was the worst, not only for Alex, but for anyone there to witness it. 

One’s instinct on seeing a child go through such pain and terror was to rush over and shake the child awake, maybe hold him until the last of the fear had subsided. However, just as Alex’s nightmares were no ordinary nightmares, Alex was not an ordinary boy, and his reaction to being touched while in a state of fight or flight was to lash out. 

The first time Ben had witnessed such a nightmare had been in New York. MI6 had put them up in adjoining rooms, and Ben had woken to shouts coming from Alex’s room. He’d come into the room, gun drawn, expecting the crime boss they were after to have sent someone after Alex. It had taken a moment to realize that there was no one in the room but him and Alex and that Alex was in the throes of some terrible dream. Of course, Ben had tried to wake Alex by shaking him. Alex’s hand had shot out toward Ben’s throat, and his foot had kicked Ben in the hip. Ben had barely dodged the blow to the throat, but the kick had knocked him sideways into the night table.

Ben still wasn’t sure if Alex had woken because Ben had shaken him or because the sound of the lamp breaking had pierced through his dream, but as Ben lay on the ground cursing and clutching his hip, Alex had shot up in bed, breathing heavily. It had taken a moment for the kid to understand what had happened, but when he did, Alex had apologized profusely. Ben hadn’t blamed Alex, of course, but that hadn’t stopped the kid from looking at him guiltily for the next few days, particularly when Ben limped. 

For Wolf, the first time had been during a mission in Romania. The two agents had been camped in the Black Forest. It had been the middle of the night, and Wolf had been woken by the most blood-curdling scream he’d ever heard. In his panic he’d tried to bolt straight through his tent, only remembering when he hit the canvas that he needed to unzip the flap. Like Ben, Wolf had initially thought there was an attack, and he’d almost breathed a sigh of relief when he had seen that Cub was only having a nightmare. A hell of a one, but the kid would live. Wolf had gone to wake Alex, thinking it would be a simple matter, and received a bruised rib for his efforts. 

After that, both men made sure to keep out of striking distance whenever Alex was having such a nightmare. At first, they hadn’t known what to do. Shouting didn’t seem to get through to Alex in this state. They were trained soldiers, but the feeling that came from watching a child suffer and being helpless to stop it was almost enough to bring them to their knees. It took several nights of watching Alex relive his past missions (and once witnessing Yassen, a fucking assassin, calming the kid down) for them to realize that if they stayed with Alex and simply talked to him, Alex would slowly calm down. 

It took time, often several minutes for the nightmare to subside. At first, the SAS men simply repeated that it was okay, it was all alright, they would protect him over and over again. Over time, they realized that it didn’t really matter what they said. The important thing was that Alex heard a familiar voice, letting him know that someone was there to help him get out of whatever hell he was in. 

Wolf would usually tell Alex stories about recent missions, the more humorous side of things. Prank wars that occurred during down time. Embarrassing secrets of certain superior officers, secrets said officers would kill Wolf if they knew he had learned. 

If Alex and Ben were the only ones in the area, Ben would sing to Alex. Any old song would do, but Ben particularly liked the Beatles and so he pretended Alex preferred them too. If Wolf or Yassen were around, Ben would read to the kid. Tolkien, Verne, Dumas. Really anything he had on hand. 

After the first minute or two of this, Alex would start to calm down. He wouldn’t thrash quite so much, and his shouts would quiet to uneasy murmurs. After another minute or so, the tossing would stop all together, and by the end of another minute he’d be sleeping peacefully. After that, Wolf and Ben usually stayed with him a bit longer. There was always the chance that the nightmare would return, and if it did, it was vital that they catch it before it got to the point where they couldn’t shake him awake. In these cases, Alex was always embarrassed that the two had been forced to wake him up, but unaware of the prior steps they’d taken to get him to the point where they _could_ wake him up. Other times, though, he slept through the night, subconsciously taking comfort in the presence of his protectors. 


	6. Paternal Instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Alex Rider or affiliated characters, and I'm not writing this for profit. Based off a quote from Grimm.

"Sit down, Dr. Cain." A voice spoke as soon as Dr. Cain had closed and locked the door. 

The scientist jumped, whirling around, eyes scanning the room before settling on a man who had made himself comfortable in an armchair by the empty fireplace. The man was in his 30s, and he had blonde hair and blue eyes. His demeanor was calm, and anyone would have thought he belonged there, that it was _his_ home. 

"Who are you?" He asked, although he supposed it didn't matter. No one who broke in and threatened a person with a gun could be friendly. 

"Sit down." The intruder ignored the question and gestured toward the chair opposite him with a tilt of his head. He spoke with only the faintest trace of a Russian accent. “I have some questions to ask you." 

Dr. Cain hesitated only a second before complying. His mind was already weighing the possibilities. This man likely wanted to know about the new virus he had helped develop. If Cain told him, his employer would kill him, but something about the man in front of him told Cain that this man would feel no qualms about killing the scientist if Cain didn't tell the man what he wanted to know. 

"I have money. Lots of it. If you want-"

"I want to ask you about an incident that happened at work yesterday." 

"I've signed a confidentiality agreement, so I can't-" Dr. Cain trailed off as the man cocked the gun. "What do you want to know?" 

"A boy broke into your facility yesterday. He didn't come out. What happened?" 

The boy? The man wanted to know about the boy? Well, that was a relief in a way. The confidentiality agreement was broad, and technically Cain shouldn't be talking about that incident either, but all things considered, his employer would be less angry about that information getting out than he would about information about the virus being made public. 

"The kid? There's not much to tell. Some school boy managed to slip past security and get to the lab. He was caught." 

"And what happened then?" 

Cain shrugged. "The guards took him to see Mr. McCann." 

The man leaned forward, a look of tension on his face. "And what did McCann do?" 

"Well, he had the guards question him, and then he locked him up." 

"What does he plan to do to the boy?" 

"I'm not sure." Dr. Cain lied. McCann was planning on using the boy as a test subject, but while his employer might forgive Cain for sharing some information under duress, McCann's plan for the boy hit dangerously close to McCann's overall plan for the world.

The intruder studied Cain for a long moment. His cold eyes seemed to take in every aspect of the scientist, and Cain suddenly felt as if he were being examined under a microscope. The scientist couldn't help but let his eyes fix on the muzzle of the gun. Had the man gotten what he wanted? Was he satisfied? 

"I think you're lying, Dr. Cain. I think you know what McCann is planning and where the boy is. I encourage you to tell me now. I can lose my temper rather quickly when I believe the boy is in danger." 

Something clicked in Cain's mind. The blonde hair. The self-assurance bordering on cockiness. The eye color was different, but that could have come from another relative. 

"You're his father!" The doctor deduced. 

The other man's eyes widened slightly, and one eyebrow rose. For a moment he didn't reply, then he spoke in an even yet firm tone that let Cain know that he'd be better off giving this man whatever he wanted. "And I'm feeling very protective." 


	7. Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do not own Alex Rider or any associated characters, and I am not writing this for profit.

John searched Yassen's face, trying to find some clue to how Yassen was feeling. It was useless. The stricken look on Yassen's face when the two's eyes had met across the grocery store had been enough to tell John that this meeting had been purely accidental, but now Yassen's face had become a blank slate. 

Once John had been one of the few people who Yassen trusted enough to be open with, to show his humanity around. Now, though, Yassen wasn't sure how to react around John, and that in itself spoke to a sense of betrayal.

Not for the first time, John regretted that Yassen had been dragged into John's mission. That he hadn't been able to save Yassen. 

John realized that they'd both been standing still for minutes, that people had started dodging around them with angry glances. He tilted his head toward the door. After a long moment, Yassen nodded. 

Leaving his cart of frozen dinners, John headed toward the exit. He walked through the parking lot, leaving his car, and headed toward the pub across the street. He didn't look back until he'd dropped into a booth in the corner. 

Yassen stood over him for a few seconds before sitting down, too, clearly deciding that this option was less conspicuous. 

John hadn't been at all sure of what he'd say. He'd thought about Yassen on and off over the years, and he'd thought of how he might explain to his former student. But in that moment, none of what he'd thought of seemed adequate. 

Without really thinking, John opened his mouth and said, "Yassen, I'm sorry."


End file.
